Page 49 of The Billionaire & the Nanny: Part 4

Kase

Alana’s still here.

She should’ve quit that day, should’ve ignored me and stuck to her job. Instead, she blocks the door to keep me from leaving, doesn’t judge me, and shares her entire body with me. That’s trust. She accepts me as I am. What I ever did to deserve this fearless, persistent, gorgeous woman, I’ll never know.

But here I am, pounding her in her virgin ass.

So beautiful. And fucking hot. And she’s mine—all mine. I could be a dick and take her for my own. She said it herself—she’d do anything for me, though I don’t know why. I don’t deserve her, and she deserves another man.

But the thought of another man doing what I’m doing now burns my balls. No fucking way can I let someone else get this view, have this woman.

My hands grip her cheeks, hold her still as I fuck her, and it’s a minute before I realize she’s touching herself throughout all this.

“You like this, Alana?”

“I love it. Come for me, Kase. Come inside my pink little asshole.”

Holy fuck, this girl knows what to say every time. The moment I hear it is the moment that electric wave rises up through my balls and shoots out and up, radiating all throughout me. “You’re getting it,” I tell her through a tight groan. “You’re getting your wish.”

“Yes, Kase. Come inside me. Make me yours.”

“You are, Alana. You’ll always be.”

Even if I can’t be with her. I can’t tell her this, because she’ll never understand what I’m about to do. Once my body is spent and I literally cannot move another muscle, I throw myself in bed, lie back, and pull her on top of me so she’s sitting on my face. Everything blends together, scents are musky, but I don’t care. It’s the most intimate way I’ll ever see her.

As she holds onto the headboard, her clit pressed up against my tongue, I lick her, fingering her in the pussy until I begin to feel those muscles squeezing together. She’s perfect, beautiful to me, and incredibly sexy, the way she grinds herself on my face, using it to reach her angles and sensitive spots. Finally, she finds one that she likes and begins rocking back and forth, as I keep fucking her over and over with my finger.

“Keep doing that…”

My hand reaches up to cup her breast, giving it a little slap and pinching her nipple for good measure. Suddenly, her knees form a vice around my head and squeeze, as she cries out loud and climaxes hard and long, more of her essence coating my tongue and face. I love this woman. Will always.

But I can’t tell her. Can’t bring her hopes up. I’m out of words to describe how love just isn’t meant for me. Hopefully, she’ll forgive me in time. And once we’ve kissed our long, deep post-coital kisses and rubbed each other’s backs, once we’ve gazed into each other’s eyes, and once she’s fallen asleep, I pick up my bag, rifle through my night stand drawer for Evie’s phone, and go anyway.

Because life is Murphy’s Law. I know, the moment I give into Alana, accept her love, and start the path of partnership, that’ll be the moment something tragic will happen. An accident or disease will claim her, and I’ll have to go through that vicious cycle of excruciating emotional pain all over again. There’s only so much one man can take.

And I’ve met my quota for one lifetime.

* * *

Late at night,I walk into a random hotel on the Upper West Side. No clue the name, no clue the time. All I know is the price is right, and I need a place to be alone. At some point, Alana will wake up and find me gone. She’ll curse my name and call me a coward, and maybe I am, though I prefer to think of it as loving her. By cutting myself off from her, by helping her think of me as an asshole.

This way, she’ll never have to deal with the crap that is my life.

Sitting at the hotel desk, I send off a series of emails to all my secretaries and assistants. I won’t be in for a few days. I need to regroup, figure out what to do with my life. There are plenty of messages awaiting me from people at Roper’s happy hour who witnessed the spectacle that was his drunken proclamation of paternity.

What made that asshole think he could just show up there and make an announcement like that? Was that supposed to put Roper on his side just to make him hand over the business? Raymond was never there for Evie’s company, never put in the work, never kept his life straight enough to warrant high praise from the big boss. In the end, he must’ve known he wasn’t good enough for Evie or Liam because he left. Not so different from you, huh, boss? My conscience tells me. Shut up. I face my responsibilities. Just because I need to withdraw for a few days doesn’t mean I don’t.

Once I’m settled in, I whoosh out a heavy breath then take Evie’s phone and stare at it, as it charges. Once the phone logo comes up, I enter her password, which she easily gave me in case of an emergency during her pregnancy, and start looking through her messages. I have to find out if Ray was telling the truth and Evie left him. If it’s true, it’s a game-changer. It’d mean that I was stupid enough to fall for it. It’d mean I married her under the impression that I was helping her out of a jam when really, I participated in deception. But worst of all, it’d mean that I’m not the rightful father to the baby.

I find the text messages between Evie and Ray from early on in the pregnancy, and it’s clear they engaged in many a text war. Nervously, I read each and every one, from the early ones where they were a happy couple. There’s even one where Evie says I don’t trust Ray. Damn straight I don’t trust him. That was my first impression of him, and I told her so.

In another text, she tells him the exciting news that she’s pregnant and sends him a photo of the pregnancy stick test. It took him a while to respond to it but eventually, he replied with a heart emoji.

That’s it? That’s all you say when your woman tells you she’s pregnant? What a fucking loser.

After that, the texts get progressively more depressing, and eventually, it’s clear that Ray has left the building. By the end of the first trimester, he wasn’t responding to any more of her messages, and then began all of Evie’s texts to me and her friends telling us what a disappointment Ray was turning out to be. In her inbox, I find an email thread with one of Ray’s friends, trying to talk some sense into him and coax him out of hiding.

She wasn’t lying.

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